


You certainly are different

by Prawnperson



Category: Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists! (2012)
Genre: Also some internalised homophobia, Body Language, Fluff, M/M, Maybe one innuendo, Post-Film, Pre-Relationship, Tea, The Captain’s thoughts have all the structural integrity of a jam sponge, Tickling, Very little dialogue, Very mild sexism, because it’s 1834 and also because the Captain is an moron, colour changing mugs, he’s not grossed out he’s just a himbo, if you really search for it, literal good old fashioned British cuppas, or maybe it would be better to call it confusion, the pirates! In an adventure with exploring your sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prawnperson/pseuds/Prawnperson
Summary: Captain be like: *bisexual panic*
Relationships: Pirate Captain/Pirate with a Scarf
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	You certainly are different

**Author's Note:**

> We all know that the reason why everyone writes scarf as the smitten one is because if the Captain fell for him first he would just do dumb stuff like this and there would be no slow burn at all

This is quite bad, and what’s worse is that the Captain knows that it’s quite bad. He’d never be the first to admit he isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he does know that he can be on the denser side at times, and honestly? It’s usually not that bad. Blissful ignorance suits him down to the ground and it hasn’t once landed them in trouble that they haven’t been able to escape from.

But this is a matter of relationships, and those can’t be done away with by slashing about his cutlass and yelling at them. They have to be thought about, deeply and at length. He can’t even ask his trusty Number Two, because unfortunately, this issue happens to be about him.

The Captain can’t actually be sure wether or not to call him ‘him’ anymore. The little speech he had given yesterday had been...out of character, to say the least, all moony eyes and soft smiles, undeniably something he’d planned ahead of time. It’s not like it’s totally outside the bounds of imagination for the pirate with a scarf to be in an unusually sappy mood after such a thoroughly heartwarming climax to their last adventure, but to actually be able to talk about it as openly as that? In the Captain’s experience, only girls can do that.

For the past thirteen hours, it’s all he’s been able to think about. There’s always a possibility that, underneath the layers of rough blue coat and blousy shirt and leather belts, his first mate has all those soft, curvy little dips that girls do. He’s not a dinosaur, and he does know that ladies are usually more than capable of wielding a sword or navigating a map if they‘re so inclined. Better than him, some of them, if he’s being entirely truthful.His number two is a very proficient swordsman, not to mention an excellent navigator. His little theory could actually hold some weight.

Just as he’s considering how on Earth he could go about finding out wether or not he’s right, there’s a gentle knock on the door that he doesn’t notice until it cracks open and the pirate with a scarf pops his head into his office.

“Tea, Captain.”

He says, nudging the door open further with his hip. The Captain takes in the deep tone of his voice, the same as usual. The scarf hides his neck, so he doesn’t even have a visible Adam’s apple to help him along. This might be a little trickier than he thought.

“Are you alright, sir? You seem awfully quiet.”

The pirate with a scarf pours the tea into the two separate mugs, the patterns a heat sensitive flea for the Captain and dark blue series of murder mystery quotes for him. It puts the Captain’s mind at rest, if only for a moment, slipping into the comfortable ease that comes with drinking tea in pleasant silence with his best friend.

“I’m fine, Number Two. I’ve just been...thinking a lot.”

At that, the first mate pulls a worried expression, placing his mug down on the desk and taking advantage of his standing position to lean over and press his palm to the Captain’s forehead. His hand is rough, the tips of his fingers bumped with little callouses, the Captain notes, and broad too. Definitely not a girl’s hand. His little scowl deepens, lips pursing. Chapped lips. Not cut, but still rough. 

“That’s not a good sign. You haven’t been drinking the sea water again, have you, sir?”

“No.”

“Rainwater, then?”

“No, Number Two. I’m not a complete idiot.”

It looks for a moment as though the first mate has something to say contrary to that, but he seems to bite his tongue just in time. He pulls his hand away, instead tapping his fingers against his chin. Suddenly, and idea strikes the Captain.

A very good idea, if he says so himself.

Before the pirate with a scarf can say anything, the Captain rises to his feet, putting his own mug down on the desk and placing his palms gingerly on the other pirate’s waist. The pirate with a scarf raises his eyebrows, once again cut short whenever thumbs digs into his sides rather roughly and he gasps out a laugh.

“Sir, don’t do that-ah! Ha!”

Underneath the belt that sits above his hips, there’s a definite hint of softness, contrasted by the sharp, dipping indentations of ribs. It’s different to the the broad boxiness of his own torso, but it feels oddly nice, unusually warm. The wriggly pirate in his grasp flails more and more until his lanky legs kick out, narrowly avoiding the Captain’s shins, giggling at every new prod to his sides.

“Ca-ah-ah-aptain!”

Finally, after what must be thirty more seconds of squirming and kicking and high pitched gasping, the Captain relents and lets his first mate down, perching him on the edge of the desk. As he does so, he wonders a little absentmindedly what it would be like to run his fingers through the pirate with a scarf’s hair. Neat as it is, it has an odd, feather fluff quality to it that the Captain has only ever really seen on Polly’s actual feathers, a lovely downy softness under his touch that always calms him down. Would it have the same effect?

“Sorry. I was testing a theory.”

“Please don’t do that ever again.”

The Captain still can’t contain the grin that feels like it might split his face right down the middle, even as the first mate shimmies off the desk and takes a hold of his mug again, heading for the exit.

“Where are you going?”

“Uh, ah, out. Outside. I’ll leave you to your work, sir.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving the Captain no time to examine his face and what he could have sworn was a faint tinge of pink beginning to colour his cheeks. Feeling momentarily disappointed, he slumps down into his leatherback chair and frowns.

Ok, so, the fact that he’s seen him in a dress on more than one occasion and watched get far too invested in trashy erotica novels still doesn’t change the fact that he is definitely not a girl. That’s pretty much definite now.

So why does he like him like he would like a girl? 

The pirate with a scarf is his best friend. He’s phenomenally loyal, always armed with a wonderful mix of patience and passion, a combination the Captain can truthfully say he’s rarely found in anyone, let alone a pirate. He’s handsome, in a way, he supposes, if you’re into skin that’s as pale as moonlit sand or eyes that are as blue as swirling whirlpools. Or something.

The final blow comes whenever he finally takes a sip of his tea. It’s not as hot as he’d usually have it, thanks to all of his musing. The milky sweetness of it hits his tongue and he swears his pulse must triple in pace. He knows that the pirate with a scarf makes tea for him, does it every day and has done for the past five years, other than those two times he was almost dying with the cold. He always puts in milk and heaps of sugar, exactly how the Captain likes it, doesn’t even ask. How is he only just now taking that in? That’s the type of thing married couples do.

And all he can do is thump his head on the desk like an annoyed schoolboy, terrified to see what having an honest to goodness smitten crush on his right hand man will result in the next time they’re alone in his office.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments! Thank you so much for reading.


End file.
